


in my life (I'll love you more)

by grellreaper



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirty Oikawa Tooru, Flustered Iwaizumi Hajime, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, IwaOi roommates in San Juan, M/M, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Slow Burn, They both think it's one-sided, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, University Student Iwaizumi Hajime, hanamaki and matsukawa are dating, iwaoi - Freeform, sexual tension -ish, some angst for spice, they wish their best friends would stop being dumbasses and date already
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grellreaper/pseuds/grellreaper
Summary: "But of all these friends and loversThere is no one compares with you"When it came to choosing between two childhood dreams, California or him - Iwaizumi chose Oikawa.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Haikyuu!! or any of these characters. This is just for fun.  
> I would also like to thank @/lqiwaoi on twitter for allowing me to use some of her headcannons for this fic! 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy reading!
> 
> P.S. I do not speak Spanish, so if there are any mistakes in the Spanish parts, blame Google Translate.
> 
> P.S.S this is assuming Oikawa immediately made it onto the team. I don't really know the steps to making it on a national team, so I just wrote it as if he was recruited immediately after he graduated.

* * *

“Stop snotting all over my shirt and put your seatbelt on.”

Sniff.

“Oi, Shittykawa.”

Sniff sniff.

“You’re insufferable.” Iwaizumi sighed and reached over Oikawa, putting his seatbelt on for him. He looked at his puffy eyes, contemplating whether it was appropriate to snap a picture of him like this. “Tooru.” He decided against it. _For now_.

More sniffing.

He sighed again. “Look, I know it’s hard leaving everyone and moving across the globe, but we made this decision together, so seeing you cry this much is quite insulting,” he averted his eyes, mindlessly running his fingers over his own seatbelt. “It’s as if you regret it.”

“You know that’s not true.” His voice was small, but it was there. “I still can’t believe you changed your mind about California.”

“I’d much rather go to a foreign country with you than alone, and if that meant changing my plans, then I’m okay with that,” Iwaizumi offered the brunette a warm smile as soon as he raised his head. “Goodbyes are hard, but crying over them won’t make them any easier. Our lives start now, Tooru, so let’s focus on that instead of crying like babies and embarrassing ourselves in front of all the pretty flight attendants.”

“ _Hey_ ,” he frowned, offended, his bottom lip jutting out. “You were crying, too, you know.” Oikawa grabbed a tissue, blowing his nose while glaring at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi’s hand acted alone, thumb wiping the tears rolling down Oikawa’s cheeks as if it was in its nature to do so. “I was _not,_ ” Despite the soft touch of his hand, his tone was stern, defensive.

Oikawa hoped he wouldn’t notice the sudden raise in temperature of his face as he tried to control his heart rate. “Liar! I saw three tears in total,” he held up three fingers, trying to distract himself from Iwaizumi’s touch.

“Proof or it didn’t happen.” He pulled his hand away, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk.

“Well, then I didn’t cry either since you don’t have any proof,” Oikawa smirked, his mouth mirroring the other man’s. His smugness went away as soon as Iwaizumi pulled out his phone, his wallpaper already set to a picture of Oikawa wiping his nose with his sleeve, puffy eyes almost fully-shut. Even though Iwaizumi found pleasure in teasing him, he was glad he managed to distract Oikawa from the situation. He wasn’t always the greatest at showing affection, but he hoped it would reach him.

Oikawa's attempts to retrieve the phone ended with coffee spilled all over Iwaizumi’s crotch. He knew he was going to get a beating the second they arrive at his new home.

 _Their_ new home.

Iwaizumi thought long and hard about letting go of his dream of going to California to study in order to be by Oikawa’s side, and he knew he’d made the right decision as soon as he saw Oikawa’s reaction when he told him: _happiness_. Oikawa was _happy_ , and that alone was enough reassurance for him.

Maybe – one day – he'd get to go to California to chase his dreams, but for now, San Juan sounded just as good. He made it out of his home town – maybe not to where he had originally planned to go, but it was still a win, having Oikawa by his side. He had now begun a new chapter of his life in a foreign country across the globe from where he’d lived his whole life, a chapter where he was not the only protagonist, but Oikawa was, too. It was _their_ chapter.

“Before we take off, please make sure all small items are secured,” the flight attendant announced and smiled, walking to the back of the plane.

Iwaizumi, plugging his earphones in, felt eyes on him. And surely, glancing sideways, he found Oikawa smiling at him. At least he’s not upset anymore, he thought, so he smiled back at him, just a slight curve of the lips. “What?” It had only been an hour since they’d bid farewell to their family and friends, but _God_ , he was so happy to see him smile again.

“Do you feel safe?” And there was that obnoxious smirk he always gave him when he was being, well, _obnoxious_ , and suddenly, Iwaizumi wished Oikawa was upset again.

“Maybe I should’ve just gone to California,” he whispered under his breath, and instead of arguing that five centimetres was a negligible height difference, Iwaizumi settled for a punch in the gut.

* * *

“Come on, Tooru! We don’t have all day.”

“You do it if you think it’s that easy!” Oikawa slammed the hammer into the wall again, barely missing his fingers.

“Just pound the fucking nail into the wall, moron.”

“I’ll pound _you_ against the wall,” Oikawa replied without thinking twice, as if these lines came to him like farts: naturally.

Oikawa didn’t know how, but in a split second, Iwaizumi’s foot had already made an indent in his spine.

Iwaizumi’s only way to stop Oikawa from noticing what his little remarks did to him was violence, since by the time Oikawa’s able to stand up again, the red tint in his cheeks would’ve already faded away. What made it all worse was that he knew Oikawa liked men. He knew even before Oikawa came out to him. But, to be fair, Oikawa always went too far with his teasing for it to be ‘ _no homo_ ’. Apparently, pretending to be surprised when Oikawa came out was not a good idea when he was a terrible actor; it only made Oikawa cry harder. He had to buy him ice-cream and a plushie to make him stop.

“Ouch, you _fucker_!” Iwaizumi yelled, crouching down while holding his throbbing foot.

Oikawa stifled his laugh, not looking to get beaten up. “My _God_ , Iwa-chan, you mustn’t say such words!” He put his hand over his mouth, gasping dramatically.

“Let me push the fucking couch over your foot and we’ll see what words come out of _your_ mouth,” he spat.

“I only speak words of wisdom,” he said, and Iwaizumi knew he was imagining a halo over his head and the lights of heaven shining over him. He just _knew_. “I don’t mean to brag,” he continued, “but Shakespeare actually time travelled here while you were in class yesterday and asked for my advice.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure,” he went along with it, standing up once the throbbing in his foot faded away.

“I’m _serious_!” He huffed.

“Me, too. I clearly remember Romeo asking Juliet to ‘ _help him give his pubic hair a fade_ ’. It was truly inspirational,” he put his hand on his chest, wiping a fake tear. “Shakespeare wouldn’t have been able to do it without your input, I’m _certain_.”

Oikawa stuck his tongue out at him. “It was a lot easier to do than I thought it would be. Do you want me to-”

“-Get that smile off your face,” he interrupted him. “You’re getting nowhere _near_ my junk,” he pointed a warning finger at him.

“It’s your loss.”

“Whatever, come help me move this furniture – without running me over with it – before I throw your stuffed turtle out the window.”

“Don’t talk about _Voldetort!_ Besides, you’re so tiny, I can’t even see you-”

This time, Iwaizumi’s foot hit the back of his skull. He crashed into the wall behind him and fainted.

*

Iwaizumi knew he shouldn’t have listened to Oikawa (big surprise) and invested in buying another bed. He cursed under his breath as he laid there with Oikawa’s giraffe limbs tangled up in his, mouth blowing hot breath in his face. He would never admit to it – not even on his deathbed – but he had always enjoyed looking at Oikawa while he slept. At least then, he’s not spouting nonsense and getting under his skin. He looked peaceful, adorable almost. Oikawa had that face that stopped you in your tracks; Iwaizumi guessed he must’ve gotten used to that, the sudden _pause_ in a person’s natural expression when they looked his way.

Despite knowing about his feelings for Oikawa, Iwaizumi never felt comfortable labelling his sexuality, so he didn’t, he didn’t need to. Oikawa had asked him about it multiple times in the past, but he always said nothing, because he felt it would be inappropriate to tell him that he identified as ‘ _in love with Oikawa’_. He wasn’t sure if it was a sexuality even. He wasn’t attracted to _all_ men; only to him, it was just _Oikawa_. He only saw Oikawa.

He hated himself for finding it endearing how Oikawa held on to a cheap stuffed turtle for three years just because Iwaizumi won it for him at a carnival. However, he was quite proud of him for naming it Voldetort; now, _that_ was genius. He had realized that he stopped cuddling it to sleep like he used to whenever Iwaizumi slept over back when they were still in school, now opting to cuddle Iwaizumi instead. He only complained to annoy Oikawa, not because he didn’t enjoy it. He really enjoyed it.

Oikawa stirred at that moment, causing Iwaizumi to freeze, afraid he’d been caught. He opened his eyes after making sure it was safe and almost started laughing. Tooru Oikawa, one of the top setters in the nation, sucking on his thumb in his sleep. God, how _old_ is he? Eighteen months, two, two and a half? He quickly grabbed his phone and took a picture of him, moving it to his folder of ‘ _photos of Oikawa to sell when he’s famous’._

“Stop staring at me, creep.”

Iwaizumi didn’t scream. He did _not_.

Not even five minutes later, Oikawa rolled over. “Iwa-chan,” he whispered. “Are you awake?”

Iwaizumi violently flopped over, tugging at the blanket. “What the _fuck_ do you want?” He growled, voice a couple octaves lower.

“Don’t try to act manly now that I’ve heard your girly scream,” he pinched his cheek, laughing obnoxiously.

Iwaizumi twisted his nipple and the taller man let out a loud shriek. “We’re even now.” He replaced his hand under his pillow, smirk on his lips as he watched Oikawa rub his nipple.

“Be careful, Iwa-chan. You never know what could be a secret kink of mine,” he winked, fingers crawling up his chest.

A punch in the face finally knocked him out. Iwaizumi could finally sleep.

* * *

Iwaizumi got up when he heard the front door open and close, walking into the hallway and smiling at his friend as he took his shoes off. “How was your first day of practice?” He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest.

“Aw, Iwa-chan. Did you wait for me to get home?” He cooed, walking towards him. “It’s almost like we’re married!” Oikawa suddenly threw his arms around his neck, indiscreetly feeling him up.

“You reek,” he stated flatly yet didn’t make any effort to push him off, but hugged him back instead.

He felt Oikawa smiling against his neck. “Nothing you haven’t smelled before." He rested his weight on his best friend, allowing him to manhandle his body onto the couch.

He sat down next to him, brushing Oikawa’s bangs off his forehead without even thinking. “So, how was it?” Knowing how hard Oikawa pushed himself to make it onto the team, Iwaizumi was ready to threaten to break his legs if he were to even think of overworking himself.

“I got everyone’s numbers.” He gave him a tired smile. “I just have to figure out who I want to fuck the most.”

“Why not all of them?”

“I like the way you think.”

Oikawa grinned at him, but Iwaizumi couldn’t help but notice it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

It never took a lot of effort to make Oikawa speak his mind. Oikawa was fully convinced that Iwaizumi was a sorcerer; he never managed to catch him in the act, but he still chased him with a pitchfork a few times in the past. It never took Iwaizumi more than a single question to make him talk. That frightened Oikawa sometimes – that vulnerability he had never felt with anyone other than him.

Oikawa sighed, “I talked to my mother during my break. It’s silly, though.” He played with a loose string from his Jersey.

“Tooru, if it’s bothering you, then it doesn’t matter if it’s the stupidest thing in the world. Just tell me,” Iwaizumi insisted, trying to make the other man meet his eyes.

“I just miss everyone,” he finally admitted, voice small as the tears in his eyes threatened to fall.

He finally managed to make him raise his head, Iwaizumi’s eyes softening after meeting the other’s. “Yeah, me too, Tooru,” his voice was soft, as soft as he could manage, hand ruffling Oikawa’s hair. “But at least we have each other.”

Oikawa nodded, looking away from his face, only to look back at it a few seconds after. And there it was, that _smile_ , so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that caused that unexpected warmth to rush through his body. Iwaizumi only smiled at him, probably to lighten the burden he carried on himself, then something amazing happened, like a light turning on in a dark room, like the sun casting its golden rays upon the land, obliterating the darkness. Wow, he wondered, smiles really _did_ have power. They could reach places even the sun can’t and warm every soul. “Ah, fuck you,” he mumbled, voice almost a whisper as he gave up and smiled back at the other man.

Iwaizumi then took him into his arms, pretending not to notice the way Oikawa was awkwardly staring at him for what felt like hours. “It’s okay. It'll all be okay.”

Oikawa finally let loose after he felt a gentle kiss planted on the crown of his head, allowing himself to let out his frustration. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

*

“Why is this course so fucking _hard_?” Iwaizumi threw his pen at the wall, slumping in his seat.

Oikawa peeked his head over his phone, “you know what else is hard?”

“This book I’m about to split your skull open with?” The next pen he threw hit him in the face.

Oikawa laughed, walking over to where Iwaizumi was sat and tugging on his sleeve. “Let’s go out-”

“No,” Iwaizumi answered flatly, not taking his eyes off the book in front of him.

“Come on, Iwa-chan! You’ve been stuck to your desk ever since your semester started!” His bottom lip jutted out; his tugging consistent as he nagged Iwaizumi.

“Easy to say when you’re too dumb to go to college,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, slapping his hand away and opening another textbook.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that. So, come _on!_ We’ve been here for _two_ months now; don’t you think it’s about time we go sightseeing?”

“No.”

“I’ll tell Mattsun and Makki about the kind of porn you watch.” Despite the threat, Oikawa had an innocent smile on his face. Truly a devil in disguise. Iwaizumi wasn’t exactly embarrassed by his preference; he just knew the nuisances back home would never shut up about it if Oikawa were to tell them. He wasn’t embarrassed, _truly_.

“You’re paying for everything,” he sighed. “And _stop_ going through my history.”

“Sure, Iwa-chan,” he answered as he rummaged through his closet. “Now tell me what to change into.”

“A better person.”

Oikawa wanted nothing more than this: to walk down the streets of this foreign city with Iwaizumi. To walk where no one knew them. They were alone, just the two of them in their own world.

Iwaizumi stood still as Oikawa snapped a picture of him in front of the sunset, not having the energy to argue with the other man. “I thought you wanted to take pictures of the scenery, why am _I_ always in them?”

Oikawa looked at him as if he had just asked the dumbest question possible. “No photograph is beautiful without you in it, Iwa-chan. Now, get in the damn frame,” he spoke nonchalantly and put his phone up again.

Iwaizumi shied away from Oikawa’s intense gaze, his cheeks heating up. He felt as if the air had been sucked out of him the second the other man’s response left his mouth so naturally, as if he’d said it to himself a million times before.

“Are you,” Oikawa paused, looking at his best friend with wide eyes, having to look twice in order to make sure he wasn’t imagining it all, “- _blushing_?”

It was the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink. The colour infused cheeks stretched with a small smile Iwaizumi failed to hold back. Iwaizumi stared straight ahead, afraid of further losing his composure if he were to catch a glimpse of those eyes. “What, _no_.”

Oikawa cackled at his stiff posture. “Did I get the ever-stoic, hardcore, total ‘tough guy’ to _blush_?”

“You’re insufferable, Shittykawa. It’s only because it’s really warm in this country. Get your head out of your ass.” He spat, fanning himself in an attempt to cool down. It wasn’t working. Oikawa’s eyes were so obviously on him and he felt exposed, _naked_. He punched himself mentally for feeding his ego.

“Huh. I guess it is the warm weather, and not that I told you that ‘your face is the most stunning thing I have ever seen and I bet the rest of you is, too,’ _right?”_ Oikawa crept closer to Iwaizumi, snapping pictures of him as he did, the smirk on his face never wavering. Iwaizumi forced himself to breathe, turning around to face him. If Oikawa’s head were a volleyball, he was sure he would’ve hit a service ace with that one.

After over a decade of being friends with him, Iwaizumi became unfazed to Oikawa’s flirting. However, at times, his eyes had a strange _glimmer_ to them, as if they were trying to say something, something he couldn’t put into words. And sometimes, Iwaizumi dared to let his imagination run wild, creating a world where Oikawa was his, and he was Oikawa’s.

* * *

Iwaizumi stood in the middle of the aisle, nails scratching at his chin, huffing angrily when he couldn’t figure out which brand of soy sauce was best. Oikawa, who had disappeared as soon as they got to the store, was now by his side, dramatically sucking the air up like a vacuum.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Iwaizumi already regretted bringing him along. “Just go back home if you’re bored.”

“Anything you secrete is _mine_ ,” he placed his head right in front of Iwaizumi’s and inhaled through his mouth.

Iwaizumi was left completely unfazed as he grabbed a random bottle and made his way down the aisle. “Imagine being normal in public for just one second. Just _one_.”

“I refuse to accept what you just secreted,” Oikawa yelled as he chased after him.

Iwaizumi immediately headed to the farthest corner of the store as soon as he heard Oikawa’s phone ringing. He knew who it was as soon as he’d heard the special ringtone set for that number ( _“sawarasenai kimi wa shojo na no boku wa yarichin bicchi no osu dayo”_ ). Iwaizumi did not want to be associated with him when he got kicked out for screaming bloody murder in the middle of aisle 4.

“Mattsun!”

“Tooru!”

Iwaizumi was at least three aisles away but he still heard it as if he were right next to him.

“Look at what Iwa-chan bought me: a get-better-soon card!” He held up a card to the screen and grinned. “It’s pink!”

“Awe, cute!” He cooed. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re sick?”

“I’m not,” he paused, scratching the crown of his head. “He just thought I could do better.”

Matsukawa stifled a laugh. “Then why are you so happy?”

“Because Iwa-chan bought it for me,” he beamed, grin almost splitting his face open.

Matsukawa smiled to himself and prayed his best friends would stop being so thick-skulled. “You’re _adorable_ , Tooru.”

“ _Tooru_.”

“Stop pressuring me! I’m having trouble deciding which would be a good fit for our family. Adoption is so hard!” He wiped the sweat off his forehead as he looked over his options again.

“We’ve been here for hours and we need to go back so I can make dinner,” he sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. "Please just pick a fucking plant already.”

Iwaizumi contemplated dragging him away after ten more minutes of waiting, but when Oikawa looked at him with those bright, honey eyes, and he just couldn’t. He ended up buying him eleven plants. He just couldn’t say no to Oikawa when he looked at him that way.

*

“Hola, ¿qué puedo ofrecerte hoy?” _(Hello, what can I get for you today?)_

“Your Spanish is getting better, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi had to close his eyes and breathe in before prying his eyes off his notebook to look at the brunette sitting in front of him. “Don’t you have practice, Shittykawa?”

“Can you not call me that in front of my friend, please?” He pouted.

Iwaizumi didn’t even notice the tanned man sitting across the table. “Oh, lo siento. Hola, soy Iwaizumi. Encantado de conocerte,” he introduced himself and smiled. _(Oh, sorry. Hello, I'm Iwaizumi. It’s nice to meet you.)_

“No te preocupes por eso. Yo soy Tomas. Encantado de conocerte también.” The man smiled back. He seemed nice, Iwaizumi thought. _(Do not worry about it. I’m Tomas. Nice to meet you, too.)_

Iwaizumi decided to break the awkward silence in order to do his job. “Entonces, ¿qué te gustaría pedir?” _(So, what would you like to order?)_

“¿Puedo tomar un café con leche por favor?” Tomas smiled flirtatiously at him, making Oikawa kick him under the table. _(Can I get a latte please?)_

Iwaizumi pretended not to notice the exchange, turning to his best friend. “What do you want?”

“I would like a _hot tea_.” He raised an eyebrow when Oikawa blinked at him slowly, a small smile on his lips. He tried to ignore the way he looked up at him with that intense gaze, warmth spreading through his body.

“Uh, yeah sure,” he looked down at his notebook again, writing down the orders. “Which one?”

That disgusting smirk was on his face again. “I don’t know yet. What’s _your_ name?”

 _Oh_.

That cheesy fucker, he thought. “Did you just call me a _hottie_?”

“Did I?” Oikawa fluttered his eyelashes at him, head tilted slightly.

And that was when Iwaizumi couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds. He was so unnecessarily beautiful, he thought, as the summer sun hit his skin so perfectly, illuminating the ends of his hair to a warm yellow. “You’re having an iced latte, it’s too warm for anything else,” he cleared his throat, snapping out of his trance. “I’m not sorry if I spill it over you, though,” Iwaizumi said as he walked away, smiling to himself when he heard him laugh.

Tomas waited for Iwaizumi to leave before leaning in closer to Oikawa. “Así que es el compañero de cuarto del que sigues hablando. Él es muy guapo,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at him. _(So he's the roommate you keep talking about. He is very handsome.)_

“Sí, es él. Pero deja de hacer obvio que te he hablado de él. Si se entera, nunca se callará.” Oikawa, cheeks now pink, rolled his eyes. _(Yes, it's him. But stop making it obvious that I've told you about him. If he finds out, he will never shut up about it.)_

Tomas only laughed, eying Iwaizumi as he walked back towards them with their drinks.

“I can’t believe you _actually_ spilled it over my Jersey.” He pouted, looking down at the stained fabric then back at the road as they walked back home. “You know you’re the one who’s going to end up washing it.”

“So, you admit to not doing your chores?” Iwaizumi tilted his head to look at Oikawa, an easy smile tugging at his lips.

“I have practice.”

“I have work and university. Suck it up and do your damn chores.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so terrible at volleyball you couldn’t go pro like me-"

A punch to the jaw silenced him for exactly three minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Iwaizumi counted his seconds of peace, yes.

“I’ll buy us pizza so you can rest when we get home,” Oikawa offered. “You don’t have to make dinner.”

“I already bought the ingredients, and I like cooking,” Iwaizumi faced the street again, breathing in the evening breeze. “Besides, pizza isn’t good for you.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, complaining light-heartedly, “you study sports science for a couple of weeks and _suddenly_ you’re a professional trainer-"

This time, the punch stopped him from talking for the rest of the walk home. Iwaizumi almost felt bad. _Almost_.

Iwaizumi unlocked the door and walked inside, running to the bathroom. Oikawa stayed outside the building for a few minutes; the sun was already dipping behind the horizon, but daylight still lingered in the air as though accidentally left behind. The clouds were like cotton-candy, as though they blushed at the warm touch of the sun. His eyes were steady to the horizon, his face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckoned the stars. Oikawa’s lips bear the semblance of a smile, close enough to show that he was enjoying that moment.

Sometimes, he’d suddenly remember the first and only time he’d ever lied to Iwaizumi: when he’d asked him about how he found out he liked men. He believed it to be inappropriate to tell him the reason they’d lost their first volleyball match in high school was because Oikawa was too busy staring at the way Iwaizumi’s biceps flexed as he slammed the ball onto the other side of the court, wishing he was on the receiving end of that spike. He spent the next month distracted by the way Iwaizumi’s gym shorts rode up his toned thighs during practice, how his jaw clenched whenever he messed up his spike. It drove Oikawa _wild_.

It all happened so suddenly back then, and Oikawa found himself splashing his face with cold water in the restroom after practice, heart racing and thoughts all jumbled up ( _“Where did his cheeks go? What is that jawline? When did this happen?”)_. He would often stay up at night thinking about the time Iwaizumi beat him at arm-wrestling, and how instead of raging, he just froze because all he could see was Iwaizumi’s sleeves rolled up all the way to the top, biceps bulging as he slammed Oikawa’s hand to the desk. He lost a lot of sleep the day he was put in a headlock for being a nuisance, and instead of trying to wriggle out of Iwaizumi’s grasp, Oikawa just held his breath because the arms surrounding him were not a child’s arms anymore, they were pure _muscle,_ they were a _man's_.

There wasn’t a single universe where Oikawa would willingly give Iwaizumi all that information. Oikawa took ' _I'm gay for you'_ to a whole different level. He'd gotten used to expressing his emotions as mere _jokes_ ; however, he’d always hoped Iwaizumi would – one day – catch on and something magical would happen, but Oikawa knew this wasn’t a fairy-tale, and he was okay with that. Sparks lit the sky and blood poured, as the glory of paradise descended further behind the seam of the world. He was just glad to be here, here with _him_.

* * *

“Why aren’t you eating? It tastes amazing,” Oikawa said, bits of food flying out of his mouth and all over the dining table.

“Can you swallow the food I made before talking instead of spitting it all on the table?” Iwaizumi’s brows furrowed as he wiped the spit off the table with a tissue.

“I’m trying to look after you! You don’t have to be so mean, Iwa-chan,” he whined.

Iwaizumi sighed. “It’s too hot. I can’t eat it now.” He rested his hand on his fist, eying Oikawa as he devoured his dinner.

“So what?” He took another bite. “You’re too hot, but I’d still eat you.” Oikawa barely finished his sentence before his face was slammed into the steaming plate.

Oikawa loved weekends. Him and Iwaizumi had busy schedules, so making time to hang out during weekdays was often very difficult, but they assigned Friday nights to watching cartoons.

“We bought a big couch for a fucking reason, dumbass. Can you scoot your flat ass over to the other side? It’s too warm for us to be sitting this close.”

“No.” And that was the end of that discussion.

They stayed that way, wrapped in each other's arms, Iwaizumi's chest rising and falling against Oikawa's back, breathing in unison. “I’m such a Squidward,” Oikawa was almost asleep when he heard Iwaizumi whisper to himself. He shot up, startling the other man. “Jesus _fuck_ , Tooru.” He placed a hand over his chest, inhaling deeply.

Oikawa ignored him, though. “You’re nothing like Squidward. If anything, I’m the human incarnation of him.”

“ _You?”_ Iwaizumi mocked, “you don’t even have a job to complain about!”

“Who cares about a damn job, anyways? I’m more like Squidward than you’ll ever be.”

“Take that back, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi warned.

“Make me,” he smirked. He fucking _smirked_.

“Okay, _fine_.” He got up, and disappeared into the kitchen, and for a while, Oikawa could hear loud clanking noises inside. After a few minutes, he came back with every single alcoholic drink they had in their kitchen. “The first to black out loses this argument.”

“Bring it on.”

Oikawa’s eyes fluttered shut but he managed to shake himself awake, “you’re playing dirty, Iwa-chan.” He turned to look at his best friend as he chugged another bottle of beer, cheeks flushed and eyes droopy. Even when Iwaizumi was completely out of it, he still looked irresistible.

“How so?” He replied while putting the empty bottle away, snaking his arms around Oikawa and leaning into his body. “We’re both equally as drunk,” he nuzzled his face into the crook of Oikawa’s neck, his eyelids starting to slip.

“Yes, but when you’re this close, it’s really hard to stay awake,” he smiled nonetheless, leaning into Iwaizumi as well, arms swung around his shoulders. “You’re always warm. The perfect person to sleep next to.”

Iwaizumi looked up, face a few inches away from Oikawa, eyes blown but his mind felt clear. “You’re almost always cold, but I still like sleeping next to you.” His eyes trailed down Oikawa’s face as he spoke, stopping at his lips. “Why do you think that is?”

Oikawa immediately wet his lips with his tongue, afraid his heart would pound out his chest. “I don’t know,” he whispered, hot breath blowing onto Iwaizumi’s cheek as he slowly closed in on him. They felt sober despite being intoxicated, but their bodies were still acting alone, as if their impulses took over and their brain was too lazy to stop them. The nervous fluttering in Oikawa’s stomach kicked up with a power as he felt Iwaizumi inching closer, his eyes still locked on Oikawa’s. A gentle squeeze from his hand made his breath hitch softly, his palm cold against Iwaizumi’s heated cheek. They stared _mesmerized_ into each other's eyes, inching forward ever so slowly, less than a millimetre away from lip-to-lip contact. _This was it_ – the moment Oikawa had always yearned for.

Until Iwaizumi’s ringtone sounded in the room, and they both broke away from each other, startled by the sudden sound, a pout on Oikawa’s lips, and a wrinkle in between Iwaizumi’s eyebrows. “It’s Mattsun,” he muttered, a slight growl in his tone.

Oikawa watched his friends talk from where he sat curled up at the edge of the couch; he felt overwhelmed, now sober enough to process the situation. This feeling inside him was so strange; it stretched throughout his whole body. It was _overwhelming_ , yet made him feel _complete_. It felt as though he’s in a dangerous fire, yet he was completely safe at the same time, as though someone’s given him peace. It felt as though his heart was dancing around his chest; and a hole – he was never aware was there – had been filled. He felt so light, like he was on top of the world, yet his heart was constricting and it felt as if there was no oxygen in his lungs.

They'd always been overly touchy, but always to a certain limit, never crossing the lines of chastity. Oikawa's touchiness when it came to Iwaizumi was a bunch of old habits that stuck over the years. For as long as he can remember, he’d never sat next to Iwaizumi without a hand on his shoulder or their knees bumping – if not his whole _body_ over the other man’s. There was always _something_ touching between their bodies, and it’d always been that way, even before Oikawa was able to put a name to his feelings for Iwaizumi. Sometimes, it overwhelmed him a little too much, and he'd have to distance himself from Iwaizumi until he could look at him again without feeling as if his heart’s going to jump out his mouth. He would never admit it, but he was terrified of the day his feelings would get found out, and the ship that was their friendship would sink forever. And even though this incident may have been something Oikawa had been dreaming of for years, he was _terrified_ it would bring their end a lot sooner than it was meant to be; because Oikawa knew that –one day – Iwaizumi was going to find someone he would fall in love with and eventually leave Oikawa, but he still wanted to be by Iwaizumi’s side for as long as he’d allow him, and if that meant he’d have to suffer from unrequited love, then he’d gladly take it.

“Look at my babies, Mattsun!” Oikawa flipped the camera to show his friend his plant collection where he'd lined them up by the window. “You’re thirsty, aren’t you? Yes, you are!” He finally managed to clear his mind, opting to show off his plant collection to avoid thinking about the almost-kiss he shared with Iwaizumi earlier.

“Tooru with plants?” Matsukawa raised his eyebrows, looking at his boyfriend in disbelief. “How are they still alive?”

“Scoot over, you _ogre,”_ Oikawa smiled as Hanamaki pushed his boyfriend away to watch him water his plants. “Honestly, Toto, as much as I’d love to see you as a father someday, it’s a bit weird watching you baby a group of _fake_ plants.”

“Don’t say that about my children!” He frowned at the camera, fingers gently stroking the plants. “They’re very much alive,” he insisted.

“I can smell the plastic all the way from Japan, you moron.”

Oikawa gaped dramatically, his palm over his chest, offended. “Iwa-chan, tell these idiots that my girls are real,” he closed his eyes, awaiting Iwaizumi’s response.

“They’re fake,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “Besides, aren’t we still fighting?” He looked at him momentarily before averting his eyes, pretending to focus on the television. “We didn’t manage to settle the argument earlier.”

Oikawa’s face flushed as he recalled the events which their friends interrupted, but he cleared his throat and pretended that the butterflies weren’t _rioting_ inside his stomach. “Did you just say that my plants are _fake?”_

“You two are fighting?” Matsukawa smirked and turned to the man next to him, “Hiro, do you remember how Hajime used to hold Tooru's hand after each time they fought?”

“I’ve never done that in my life.”

“Yeah, you have,” Hanamaki laughed. “You’d try to cheer him up because he got upset whenever you yelled at him.”

“Absolutely false.”

They waited for Oikawa to back them up but realized he was preoccupied thinking about his plants. “Just call us back when you solve your lovers' quarrel-” Oikawa hung up before they even finished their sentence and dropped his phone, sinking onto his knees.

“You’re not the main character in a _drama,_ Tooru. Get up,” he rolled his eyes light-heartedly. “I replaced the real plants we bought with fake ones because I knew you were going to kill them sooner or later.” Iwaizumi flipped through the channels, not bothered to watch Oikawa’s dramatic breakdown. “You were going to sulk for days if they were to die, and I don’t have the energy to deal with that.”

“You killed my babies!” He covered his eyes with his arm, pretending to sniffle.

“They’re not dead,” he smiled, unable to hold it back anymore. “I gave them to our neighbour, Zoe, and told her they were from you.”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” He instantly got up, jumping around like an ape on drugs. “You’re the greatest wingman ever, Iwa-chan,” he threw himself over him, almost elbowing him in the face.

“And you’re _gay,”_ Iwaizumi laughed, arms circling his waist, allowing the other man to cuddle into his chest.

“Oh, yeah, right. I tend to forget about that.”

He stared at Oikawa for a while, urging his tongue to form a proper sentence. “I’m sorry about earlier, by the way,” Iwaizumi looked away, red tinting his cheeks. “I think the alcohol got the best of me. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Oikawa didn’t know whether to laugh at Iwaizumi’s expression, or to cry over his words. It was just the alcohol, he thought, it didn’t mean anything to him. He felt it stupid to get upset over this even though he’d said that same thing to himself every time he thought he’d shared a special moment with Iwaizumi, even though he still treasured every second spent with him. He never wanted these days to end. To be able to eat on the same table as Iwaizumi, sit on the same couch, breathe the same air, share the same _bed_ as him, Oikawa felt blessed already. This was all he could’ve asked for and _more._ This was _everything_ to him.

“What are you apologizing for?” He grinned, feigning sleepiness and closing his eyes so Iwaizumi wouldn’t see through his act. “We were both drunk. It was just a silly mistake.”

Iwaizumi’s pained expression went unseen by Oikawa, but he didn’t miss the crack in his voice as he replied, “Yeah, just a mistake.” Iwaizumi grabbed his phone, nuzzling closer to Oikawa again, wanting to be surrounded by him despite the pain his chest. “We should call them back.”

“Yeah, we probably should.”

It wasn’t awkward between them since they’d always felt this way – like there had always been that invisible wall between them, denying them anything more than what they had. This was how it had always been.

“Honestly, Mattsun deserves an award for putting up with me,” Hanamaki laughed.

Matsukawa smiled; eyes fixed on his boyfriend. “You’re my award, Makki,” Matsukawa pecked his lips, fingers gentle on his cheek.

Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi – who was too busy cooing over his best friends. “Iwa-chan, you deserve an award for putting up with me,” he fiddled with his thumbs.

“I know I do, you’re a real _bitch_ sometimes.”

Oikawa came back from the kitchen with a bag of chips, plopping down on the couch next to Iwaizumi. “You guys know what?”

“I really don’t want to know, actually,” Iwaizumi responded, ready to go back to the conversation they were having before Oikawa interrupted.

“I know we’re best friends and all,” he continued, having ignored Iwaizumi completely. “But I’d definitely fuck Iwa-chan if he ever asked.”

“What?”

_“What?”_

“Oikawa said he’d fuck you if you ever asked,” Matsukawa answered.

“Yes, thank you, Issei. If you’ll excuse me for two minutes, Oikawa needs help with something.” Iwaizumi hung up, the smile on his face sending a chill down the couple’s spine.

They called them back after a couple minutes, Oikawa rubbing a bruise that definitely wasn’t there before. They chose not to address it, though, for their own safety.

Oikawa had to reboot his brain cells when he woke up next to Iwaizumi first thing in the morning; holding his head in his hands and complaining about how stupid it was to drink that amount of alcohol – even though it was _his_ idea, abs contracting as he rolled over in bed, hair dishevelled and the rasp in his morning voice easing Oikawa’s headache. He felt as if he was _suffocating_ – partially because he was holding his breath. Remembering the events from the night before while sober caused his mind to shut down again. Oikawa was never good with colours – often mistaking turquoise for teal – but if you were to ask about Iwaizumi’s _lips,_ he would give an _exact_ shade of pink, the vision of him so intimately close to him forever _carved_ into his mind, the smell of Iwaizumi mixed with a hint of alcohol still tickling his nose.

* * *

Iwaizumi breathed in the warm breeze, trying to keep his eyes open as he made his way home after his last exam, beads of sweat trickling down his back. He had finally finished his first semester, barely managing to balance work, school and babysitting Oikawa all at once. Sleep. He needed sleep.

“I’ve had three hours of sleep this past week and now I can smell sounds. Please kill me.”

“Uh, welcome home?” Oikawa turned his head to smile at him, body still facing away as he held the plate he was cleaning over the sink.

Iwaizumi stood in his place for a while, gawking at Oikawa. “Am I starting to _hallucinate?_ I think I just saw you doing the dishes,” he rubbed his temples, closing his eyes for a couple seconds.

Oikawa laughed, turning the water off and leaning over the kitchen island. He didn’t say anything, only stared at Iwaizumi, admiring his dishevelled form, hair sticking out in opposite directions and dark circles under his eyes. Oikawa could see he was wearing mismatched socks from where he was standing. They weren’t even similar colours – green and white, proof of how _exhausted_ he actually was. “I think I might be dreaming, actually. Is Ryan Gosling going to show up and do a striptease?” Iwaizumi looked around, shoulders slumping when he realized he was very much awake. “Worth a shot.”

Oikawa chuckled. “Do you want dinner,” he smirked, pausing for a second before continuing, “or do you want _me?”_

“I’ll take dinner.”

Oikawa muttered angrily as he put the leftover pizza in the microwave.

Iwaizumi placed his plate in the sink and stretched, sighing when his back gave a satisfying crack. “I'm going to shower then sleep. Wake me up in three days.” He started walking towards their bedroom.

“What you need, my friend, is a sick party,” Oikawa grinned, leaning back in his seat.

“Maybe, but I don't want to go out anywhere. I hate the weather in this country,” he paused for a second, “and _people.”_ He rubbed his face with both hands. “Man, I’m so horny,” he mumbled under his breath, but it still reached Oikawa's ears.

Oikawa’s insides threatened to melt, heat flooding out from his core. They’d said that same, exact sentence to each other a _thousand_ times before (teenagers tsk tsk), and yet, hearing Iwaizumi say it still made the butterflies in his stomach go _berserk._ “Hi horny, I’m available.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to throw out the first thing that came to mind in order to cover the flush in his cheeks.

“A dad joke, _really?”_

“Only fit for a daddy,” he sent a wink his way.

Iwaizumi sent a book back. Legend says Oikawa still has a scar from that day.

Iwaizumi had planned to sleep in that weekend, but Oikawa was an asshole. At exactly midnight, Oikawa – standing in the middle of their bedroom – cleared his throat and belted out the lyrics so _loud,_ Hanamaki and Matsukawa were probably heard him and were singing along.

_“Can you feel the love tonight?”_

Iwaizumi sat up straight, shooting death glares at the nuisance that is his best friend as he also _‘sang’,_ “can you read the fucking _time?!”_

“Yes! It’s one-minute past midnight. Do you want the _date,_ too?” Iwaizumi was halfway through getting up to smother Oikawa, but he stopped the second Oikawa spoke again. “It’s the tenth of June, Iwa-chan.”

He looked up at the brunette, now perched at the corner of the bed. He paused for a few seconds, blinking slowly as his brain tried to function in its sleep-deprived state, “it _is?”_

Oikawa giggled at his demeanour. “Yeah. You were so busy with exams, you didn’t even notice, did you?” Iwaizumi knew how annoying Oikawa was at times, but he was always _considerate_ – he knew when to stop.

“No, I... I didn’t.” Their eyes met, and slowly, his lips mirrored the smile on Oikawa’s face. There was a certain _tension_ in the room, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, yet neither of them could pinpoint what it was exactly. It somewhat felt like the night of their _almost-kiss;_ however, they hadn’t ingested a drop of alcohol and were very much sober.

“Happy birthday, _Hajime.”_

He wanted to throw himself in front of a _bus._ Oikawa almost never called him by his first name, it was always that God-awful nickname. “Yeah, thanks. Uh, thanks for remembering.” Hearing him use it erupted a volcano inside him – his skin burned, vision blurred, and he could hear _nothing,_ just white noise. He thought he might’ve died that second, he had no idea.

“Don’t you want to go back to bed?” Oikawa’s voice was a gentle whisper, barely there.

It took Iwaizumi a couple seconds to realize that he was asked a question. “Yeah! Uh, yeah. Let’s go to bed.” Iwaizumi was set on smothering Oikawa as soon as he woke up to his singing _(screaming)_ but now, he wanted to smother _himself_. He wanted to pull his eyeballs out for stuttering like a teenage boy who’d just seen _breasts_ for the first time.

A pair of arms snaked their way around his waist followed by a warm body pressed against his backside. Blood rushed to his cheeks, and even though he wasn’t particularly religious, he still thanked the lord for not having his back to the other man, his face a fiery red. He didn’t dare move, the feeling of Oikawa’s body pressed against his was not unfamiliar, but it never failed to start a _raging_ fire inside him. “What are you doing?”

“Spooning you.” Oikawa’s nose tickled his nape, his voice barely a whisper, drowsiness evident in his tone. _Ironic,_ considering the fact that he was screaming over Iwaizumi’s head like a baboon on mushrooms only a minute ago.

No shit, he thought. _“Why,_ though?”

“You always spoon me when I ask you to.” Maybe it was the simplicity of it, but Oikawa’s answer sent the other man’s heart rate over the edge – maybe he _was_ dying – and he was afraid Oikawa would notice the power even the smallest things he said held against Iwaizumi.

“But I didn’t ask you to,” he tried to say in monotone, but failed, his voice cracking. Fuck.

“Yeah, well. If it were me, I would love it if you were to spoon me without me asking.” Oikawa honestly would one day be the death of him, he thought. He lay there, feeling Oikawa’s even breath warm up the skin of his nape, his fringe tickling his neck every time his body rose and fell. He made sure Oikawa was asleep before he slowly turned to face him. Iwaizumi admired his calm features, moving closer to his sleeping body, wrapping his arms around his narrow waist and enveloping him in his warmth. Oikawa nuzzled closer to him in his sleep, placing a hand on his chest, and Iwaizumi feared the intense fluttering in his chest might wake the other man up. And if it took Iwaizumi three hours to fall back asleep, then no one had to know.

*

“It’s my birthday, aren’t you supposed to do whatever I want?”

“Well, I don’t _have_ to.”

“You’re the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“You _have_ the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”

Oikawa limped for the rest of the way to the store. He’d dragged Iwaizumi out to buy snacks for their movie night, as he asked to stay at home and relax for the weekend, not really in the mood to socialize, tired from pretending he liked the people in his class.

They made their way through the aisles, hands full of different snacks. “Oi, Tooru. Why did you sing that song last night? Why not sing the birthday song instead? You know, like _normal_ people.”

“Well, first, I _refuse_ to be normal. That’s disgusting.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “And second, do you remember how in elementary school, we had that play, the _Lion King_ one?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “We really thought we were child prodigies back then since they gave us the lead roles,” Iwaizumi smiled at the memory.

“I probably realized I was gay after they gave Nala’s part to that annoying brat,” he laughed.

“I think I remember now,” he turned to face Oikawa. “It was your birthday that day, and I didn’t know the English lyrics to the birthday song, so on our way back home, I started singing the lyrics to the tune of the birthday song.”

“Yeah. You were an extremely dumb child for not knowing the lyrics, though. I have no idea how you landed Scar’s role-” Oikawa flinched as he saw Iwaizumi’s hand fly towards him. Iwaizumi laughed under his breath and rested his hand over Oikawa’s head, fingers gently ruffling his brown locks. They should make this a tradition, he thought, an _Oikawa and Iwaizumi_ thing.

Oikawa almost _purred,_ head following his hand, seeking more of his touch, and Iwaizumi almost had to clutch his chest before his heart _burst_ into a million pieces. “We should make this a tradition. The birthday song is officially _banned_ in this household as of now!” Oikawa grinned after he’d voiced Iwaizumi’s exact thoughts.

Maybe _Oikawa's_ the one who should be chased down with a pitchfork.

They ended up walking around the area for a while, Iwaizumi pretending to hate every song Oikawa played – just to annoy him.

“Okay, how about this then? You like _The Beatles,_ right?” Iwaizumi finally nodded. A few seconds of silence passed before the song started playing. They walked side by side, bumping shoulders every few seconds, the corners of their lips curling whenever the Caribbean breeze ruffled their hair.

**_There are places I'll remember_ **   
**_All my life, though some have changed_ **   
**_Some forever, not for better_ **   
**_Some have gone, and some remain_ **

After a while, they found themselves walking on the beach, staring at the dying glow of the sun as it descended into the water.

They walked barefoot on the soft, white sand, telling stories and laughing. Then, they just stood there, facing the open sea, their laughter dying away as they watched the line where heaven touched Earth, eyes witnessing the glowing collision. The clouds were cotton-candy, as though they _blushed_ at the warm touch of the sun. Silhouettes of birds flew across the sky, now magenta; the sun half into the water now, its reflection making it look complete.

**_All these places had their moments_ **   
**_With lovers and friends, I still can recall_ **   
**_Some are dead, and some are living_ **   
**_In my life, I've loved them all_ **

Iwaizumi’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon as it devoured the light until only a few bright streaks remained to signal heaven’s passing. In just a while, the biggest star would set, giving way to a thousand others.

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa replied; however, Iwaizumi was busy watching the sunset, but Oikawa watched _him,_ emerald eyes reflecting the remaining rays illuminating the sky.

**_But of all these friends and lovers_ **   
**_There is no one compares with you_ **   
**_And these memories lose their meaning_ **   
**_When I think of love as something new_ **

“We’ve been all around the city, but we’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, you dragged me _everywhere.”_

“You make me sound like such a terrible human being, Iwa-chan,” he pouted.

“You aren’t, though.”

Oikawa seemed genuinely shocked to hear those words leave his mouth. “Do you have a _fever?”_

Iwaizumi shook his head, smiling down at where his fingers drew random shapes in the sand.

**_Though I know I'll never lose affection_ **   
**_For people and things that went before_ **   
**_I know I'll often stop and think about them_ **   
**_In my life, I'll love you more_ **

“I got you something,” Oikawa said, struggling to take it out of his pocket.

“You really didn’t have to, you know.” Iwaizumi smiled at the other man.

“I wanted to,” he said as he extended his hand towards him.

Iwaizumi stared at the necklace he held in his palm. He took it from him, running a gentle finger over the silver Godzilla dangling from the chain. “I love it,” he almost squealed, but he contained himself, his eyes stuck on the necklace, the corners of his lips curled into a smile that lit a million fires inside Oikawa. 

“I saw it on my way back from practice a while ago and I had to buy it,” he reached around Iwaizumi to put it on for him. “I wish I could’ve gotten you something fancier, though.”

He held the pendant between his thumb and index finger, looking down at it. “It’s perfect, Tooru.”

**_Though I know I'll never lose affection_ **   
**_For people and things that went before_ **   
**_I know I'll often stop and think about them_ **   
**_In my life I'll love you more_ **

Iwaizumi made a mistake and looked up at him, being met with a smile that went straight to his heart. He was so annoyingly _stunning._ It was at moments like these that he realized how _gone_ for Oikawa he actually was. Even with his weird obsession with a stuffed turtle, and his habit of being a complete and utter asshole by leading people on – including Iwaizumi. If Iwaizumi was sure of anything, it would be that he wanted to kiss him, _so bad._

“I want to kiss you.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them, panic overtaking his features as soon as they did.

Oikawa couldn't find his voice. He felt his cheeks flush hot, his stomach heavy, and it took him a few seconds to process the words that left Iwaizumi’s mouth. His heart pounded in his throat, threatening to break out as he remembered the situation they were in before: faces only a few centimetres apart, breaths mingling, lips so _close._ Iwaizumi's eyes remained fixed on him as he panicked; Oikawa was sure flying pigs would show up out of nowhere and he could wake up at any moment, but he never did, and he didn’t want to wait for the realization to hit him, he didn’t want to wait any longer and let this chance escape him again. “So do it,” Oikawa voiced his thoughts before he could chicken out, heart beating out of his chest, voice so breathy, it was almost inaudible.

How many love songs had he heard that said, _‘he takes my breath away’?_ Now, that line made a lot of sense. It was his turn to freeze up when he realized Iwaizumi was leaning in, palms cupping his cheeks, and suddenly, hot breath blew against his mouth. After what felt like an eternity later, their lips _touched,_ and sparks flew in every direction, the world was slowly disappearing around them. It was a small kiss, but it was able to light a thousand fires inside Oikawa’s body. He had no idea how a kiss so innocent could be so _intimate_ and _electrifying._ Their lips melded together, moving in sync, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. It was as if they were made to be together; like _soulmates,_ maybe.

He pulled away, eyes still closed as he touched his forehead to Oikawa’s, wanting to savour the moment. _“Hajime...”_ His hot breath hit Iwaizumi’s cheek, eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Don’t talk, Tooru.” And he kissed him _again,_ just as gently as the first time.

**_In my life I'll love you more_ **

* * *


	2. II

* * *

They kissed again after that day, and it felt the same way every time: electrifying, magical, _breath-taking_. It left the both of them in a state of disbelief, as though they couldn’t comprehend that it was real, that it actually happened. Best friends kiss sometimes, maybe because of curiosity or even a simple dare. But to them, it wasn’t something they wanted to try out, they _itched_ for it, they _craved_ it. They’d been dreaming of that exact moment ever since they learned what love was. _Love._ All the kisses they shared were an unspoken _‘I love you’_ – those three damned words they didn’t dare utter. 

Iwaizumi had the day off, so he cleaned the house – since Oikawa never did – and made food. As soon as he sat down to rest, his ringtone sounded in the empty room. He smiled at the Caller ID and answered. 

“Hajime! Where’s Tooru?” Hanamaki’s voice echoed in the room. Iwaizumi could see Matsukawa’s shoulder at the edge of the screen. Always together, those two. 

“Well, hello to you, too,” he said in monotone, smiling nonetheless. 

“Don’t mind him,” Matsukawa chuckled, peeking into the screen. “We have big news, that’s all.” 

“What’s up?” Iwaizumi questioned; one eyebrow raised. 

_“No!”_ Hanamaki interrupted. “Both of you have to be here for this.” 

“Tooru’s at practice but he should be on his way back by now. Let me text him.” Iwaizumi quickly typed in his message, tapping his foot on the wooden floor impatiently as he waited for a reply. And barely even six minutes later, a red-faced Oikawa – panting as though he’d just ran around the globe twice – burst through the door. 

“What did you do to Voldetort?!” He screeched as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Nothing,” he said as he led the other man to the couch. “I just thought you’d hurry up this way.” 

“Why would you play with my feelings like that?” Oikawa huffed and placed a hand over his chest, throwing himself over Iwaizumi, falling on the couch along with him. 

He ran his hand through Oikawa’s brown locks, still wet from the shower he took earlier, making a mental note to scold him for not drying his hair. “What else am I supposed to play with then?” 

“My dick.” 

_Silence_. 

“What?” 

“He said he wants you to play with his dick.” Matsukawa to the rescue. 

Iwaizumi hung up for a few minutes, and when he called them back, Oikawa was sat on the far end of the couch, rubbing his head. 

“Can we please talk now?” Hanamaki snapped. 

They both nodded, getting closer to the screen. Hanamaki and Matsukawa then shared a look, and the love they shared translated through the screen as Oikawa and Iwaizumi watched the sparks fly between them. They knew those two were meant to be together ever since the first time they all met, the soft touches they shared during practice – trying to play it off as just helping the other with their technique, even though everyone knew they were both highly capable players on their own. They knew, the second they saw the feint blush on Matsukawa’s cheeks when jokingly asked if he had a crush on anyone, and the annoyed look on the other’s face when he admitted to it, his jealously written all over his expression. They knew, the second they saw Matsukawa’s hand inching closer to Hanamaki’s while they all walked home, until all his fingers were wrapped around the other’s palm, squeezing ever so gently every time they made a turn. They were so in love, and both Iwaizumi and Oikawa saw it all the way through. It was truly magical, this love. 

The grins on their faces were the same as the day they announced they were dating, both of them recognized that, and they _knew,_ even before they had the chance to announce it. “Even though not legally,” Hanamaki started, and they watched as their best friends both raised their hands into the frame, the bands around their fingers reflecting the dim light of their lamp. “We’re getting married!” They announced in unison, smiles wide and eyes teary. 

Iwaizumi’s grin almost split his face in two while Oikawa sat there, looking at the screen with tears running down his cheeks. “What the _fuck?”_ More crying. “Who finally grew the balls?” Iwaizumi wiped a few tears himself. 

“It was me,” Matsukawa blushed, eyes fond as they remain fixed on his soon-to-be husband. 

“I’m so happy for you two! Holy _fuck,”_ Iwaizumi chuckled, still dumbstruck. “You’re paying for our tickets for the wedding,” Iwaizumi joked. 

“I guess you’re not coming then,” Hanamaki quickly replied, laughter erupting from the group. 

“I wish I could give you two a hug right now,” Oikawa suddenly spoke, his voice small, but he still tried to smile. 

“Me too, Toto,” Hanamaki pouted. “I guess you’ll have to hug Hajime until we see each other!” 

“I love your beautiful brain, Makki,” Oikawa grinned, attaching himself to Iwaizumi’s side. 

“I don’t,” Iwaizumi sighed, but make any move to get Oikawa off him; he leant into him instead, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him further into his chest. He knew Oikawa was homesick, and even though he was, too, he wanted Oikawa to rely on him – he wanted Oikawa to see him as a _home._

Oikawa looked up at Iwaizumi, expression unreadable, and watched as Iwaizumi’s eyes softened when he looked back at him. They both had words at the tip of their tongue, yet formulating a meaningful sentence and actually accumulating the courage to say it was a case for another day. 

Oikawa lifted his gaze back to the screen, Iwaizumi’s gaze lingering a few seconds longer, going over the red lining Oikawa’s eyes, now puffy from crying. He found it endearing how easily he could cry over anything even remotely emotional, maybe even envied him for it; either way, it remained one of the many things he admired about Oikawa. He shifted his gaze back to the screen, smile easy as he watched his best friends talking over each other, thrilled over their wedding, finding himself glancing at the man in his arms, his insides so warm with an overwhelming amount of love he never knew one could hold for a single human being. 

There were pauses in the conversation whenever Hanamaki ran out of breath to talk, and the couple would notice how their friends would seize that opportunity to catch a glimpse of each other, sharing a moment, saying a million words while remaining completely silent. And in that split-second, they were _untouchable_ – just them in their own world. 

And at times like that, Matsukawa and Hanamaki felt nostalgic, their high school days still fresh in their minds. When they first became friends with the two, they quickly picked up on the secret glances Iwaizumi sent Oikawa’s way, and the not-so-secret ones Oikawa sent back. It didn’t take them long to notice the subtle concern masked behind the aggressiveness in Iwaizumi’s tone whenever he scolded Oikawa for overworking himself, the _pain_ in Oikawa’s eyes whenever Iwaizumi blatantly rejected him, even if it were light-hearted. They knew their touchiness was more than just habits that stuck around, they _yearned_ for each other’s touch, whether it be a hug or a simple brush of the shoulders while passing by – they _ached_ for it. Hanamaki and Matsukawa learned to love each other by watching their best friends act like an old couple bickering over everything and anything. However, unlike the other two, they decided they wanted what they _could_ have, if they were to take that step, more than preserving what they _had._ And fast-forward four years – they were planning their wedding. 

They've heard people ask if Iwaizumi actually hated Oikawa, but they only rolled their eyes in response, knowing that he only acted that way because he was lost, not knowing what to do with the overwhelming amount of _love_ he held for the other man. And even though Oikawa always portrayed his feelings as mere joke, they figured it be exhausting to laugh it off after getting flat-out rejected every single time. They’ve contemplated whether they should’ve taken action to urge one of them to make a move, but they knew it was not their place. This was _their_ story, and they had no right to try and interfere. 

* * *

Going to work after his three-hour lecture was one of the worst things Iwaizumi had experienced so far, and that’s saying a lot since he lived with _Oikawa_. It'd been over six months since they’d moved, and he just couldn’t get used to his busy schedule. He unlocked the door and walked in, his eyes settling on Oikawa as he took his shoes off. He was leaning awkwardly against the living room’s doorframe. 

“Welcome home, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa grinned at him, and Iwaizumi could tell he was plotting something. 

“What did you break?” 

“Nothing!” 

“Something’s telling me not to believe you. Maybe it’s God.” 

“I prepare a surprise for you and this is how you treat me?” He pouted, crossing his arms. He looked like a puppy, Iwaizumi thought. An ugly one, he added in his head, just to make himself feel better. Oikawa, Adorable? _Never._

“What surprise? Because if it’s a painting of your dick again, I don’t want it.” 

“Mean!” Oikawa wiped an invisible tear. “I’ll let you know many people would pay to have that painting.” 

Iwaizumi walked past him and into the living room, dropping his bag on the floor and throwing himself on the couch. “Yeah, I got five dollars out of the woman in the apartment next door.” 

Oikawa’s jaw dropped. _“Paula?!_ Couldn’t you have given it to Zoe from the second floor instead?” 

“You’re gay, why the fuck do you care?” 

“I’m also super bored.” He paused before adding, “and a heartbreaker.” 

He could almost hear Iwaizumi’s eyes rolling. “An annoying sadist: that’s all you are.” 

Oikawa tugged at his jacket, trying to get him to get up. “Come on, Iwa-chan! At least check out the surprise before falling asleep.” 

Iwaizumi groaned and sat up, knowing that Oikawa would continue nagging like the brat he was until he did. “What’s the damn surprise,” he got up, cutting himself off as he looked around the room. “ _Oh_.” His eyes travelled across the walls and over the frames hung all around. 

He got up, eying each one closely. He smiled when he got to what he knew was the oldest picture of them together – with Oikawa’s finger up Iwaizumi’s nose when they were five. He chuckled at the memory, Oikawa’s eyes on him as he ran his fingers over every frame he walked past. So many memories fitted on four small walls: them dressed up as two halves of an avocado for Halloween when they were seven, posing with the trophy from the first volleyball game they won in middle school, then in high school. There was even a picture of them with their mothers. 

A smile stretched at his lips when his he spotted a frame on the coffee table, him and Oikawa’s smiles bright. It was from the first time they’d ever gotten drunk, Iwaizumi’s arm around the other’s shoulders, squeezing him into his side, and Oikawa’s face flushed from all the alcohol; or was it Iwaizumi’s scent? He couldn’t remember. Honestly. 

It was when Oikawa’s parents were out of town, the last day of their third year. Matsukawa held some very blackmail-worthy pictures against them from that night, and Iwaizumi cursed at the frame sitting right next to the last, Matsukawa’s smile almost _mocking_ him through the glass barrier, Hanamaki poking his tongue out at him from the edge of the picture. He did eventually smile when he saw Oikawa in the background, body flopped over his, both of them completely blacked out. 

“I had to pull some strings with Mattsun to get that picture.” 

“I want to strangle the living hell out of him.” 

“We should raise awareness against him. He's an actual disease.” 

They both laughed for a while. “Stop that, dumbass. I need you to remain lame so I can feel better about myself,” he mumbled, but Oikawa heard, smiling to himself. 

Iwaizumi stopped by the picture of them at graduation, hung on the wall above the couch, Hanamaki and Matsukawa hugging the both of them, eyes glassy and smiles wide. 

“You were the only one who didn’t cry that day,” Oikawa’s voice broke through the silence again. 

“You know I’m not the type to cry,” he continued looking at that picture, not facing Oikawa. 

“Not in front of people, no.” He could hear Oikawa sigh behind him, “I saw you crying on the way back home.” 

Iwaizumi’s stomach twisted and he finally turned to look at him. “I just,” he inhaled deeply, “I... don’t _like_ it,” he paused, swallowing dryly. “Showing that side of me, I mean.” 

Something in Oikawa stirred, tears welling up in his eyes. Curse this emotional trait of his, he thought. “Not even me?” He mentally high-fived himself when his voice came out even, even though his eyes were burning with unshed tears. 

Iwaizumi noticed the sudden change in his demeanour, but he didn’t want to lie just to please him. He never lied to Oikawa, and he took pride in that. Except for the fact that he was, you know, _madly in love with him._ “I don’t know.” 

Oikawa simply nodded, turning his back to his best friend. “I have practice tomorrow morning, so I’m going to bed.” And with that, he walked down the short hallway, leaving Iwaizumi to stare at his back. 

Iwaizumi walked into their shared room after taking a shower, pausing at the door, insides knotting. Oikawa – who usually hogged the blankets, always invading his personal space while sleeping – was curled up on his side of the bed, covered in a spare blanket. 

There weren’t any giraffe limbs tangled in his that night, no hot breath against his neck, no soft fringe tickling his cheeks, no _Oikawa._ Oikawa remained as far away as he could from him, and Iwaizumi knew – from his uneven breathing and soft sniffling now and then – that Oikawa, just like him, didn’t get much sleep that night. 

* 

Monday was terrible. Tuesday was terrible. And Wednesday looked like it trying real fucking hard to keep up the trend. It was awkward. The kind of awkward that slowly drained the oxygen out your lungs. Oikawa barely looked into Iwaizumi’s eyes that whole week, unable to when the inside of his brain was on a rampage, thoughts flying in different directions, forbidding him of sleep, heart wrenching every time his eyes caught a glimpse of Iwaizumi. He wanted to be next to him, but being near someone he was so in love with _hurt,_ so much, at one point even thought his heartache would actually kill him. What Iwaizumi said was nothing new to him, but he was still silly enough to expect a change from him after all those months, alone with only each other to call home. Maybe he was being selfish, banking on a change in Iwaizumi’s behaviour that would meet his expectations, when in reality, Iwaizumi didn’t have to do anything, he wasn’t obliged to. Oikawa was merely a friend. 

Iwaizumi kneaded the dough, but his mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out a way to mend the situation at hand. Oikawa’s expression of hurt – eyebrows pinched, eyes glassy, lips quivering – etched to the back of his eyelids, flashing in his mind every time he closed his eyes, giving him no chance to rest, constantly reminding him how big of a _fuck-up_ he was. 

His thinking was put to a stop when his ringtone sounded in the room. He wiped his hands and answered. 

“Iwaizumi! I think I’m dying!” The dark aura around him dissipated as Hanamaki’s voice echoed in the kitchen. 

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrow, propping his phone up on the counter. “Why?” 

“You could be a bit more worried, you know,” he pouted. 

“You’re mistaking me for Tooru again. Now tell me before I lose interest and hang up.” 

Matsukawa stifled a laugh. “We went on a picnic today and an ant crawled up his ear while he was sleeping on the grass.” His fingers brushed through his fiancé's hair, no sign of annoyance in his expression. Iwaizumi looked up to him, he truly did. Oikawa’s head would’ve been halfway through the wall by now. 

“It’s going to eat my _brain!”_

Iwaizumi blinked at the screen, hand hovering over the flour. “It’s going to starve.” 

Matsukawa finally laughed, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek while the other pouted. Iwaizumi even gave them a small smile – he couldn’t hold it back when he could practically see the hearts in Matsukawa’s eyes. 

“What are you making?” 

“Uh, milk bread.” 

“Oh _God,_ Iwaizumi. What did you do?” Hanamaki put a hand over his mouth, concern visible on both their faces. 

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re hopeless.” Matsukawa sighed. 

_“Huh?”_

“You only make milk bread whenever Oikawa’s upset with you,” Hanamaki elaborated. 

“I do _not_.” He knew it was true, which was exactly why he was getting defensive. 

“Sure, buddy,” Matsukawa replied sarcastically. “We need to go to bed now. Stop being a hard-ass and make up with him.” Hanamaki nodded in agreement. 

They hung up and he sighed. He felt terrible. 

Iwaizumi startled awake when the bathroom door suddenly squeaked open, Oikawa wincing when he realized that he’d woken him up. “Sorry,” he mouthed, his wet hair dampening the collar of his shirt. 

He sat up from where he was spread out on the couch. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

They stared at each other for a while. “Can you dry my hair for me?” Oikawa broke the silence, gesturing towards the towel in his hand. 

Iwaizumi nodded, spreading his legs to allow the other man to sit on the floor between them. His fingers ran through his wet locks momentarily before covering his head with a towel. Oikawa closed his eyes and enjoyed the gentleness of Iwaizumi’s hands as he massaged his scalp. 

“Am I hurting you?” Oikawa shook his head. That was a stupid question, he thought. He’d been doing this for years now, having memorized exactly the way Oikawa liked it done. 

He got up after a while, wordlessly walking to the kitchen and back with the bread he’d made earlier. Oikawa, now curled up on the couch, looked at him suspiciously. “Is that milk bread?” 

Iwaizumi nodded and placed the plate on the coffee table. “I got bored,” he lied. 

Oikawa’s gaze softened. “Oh, did you?” He totally didn’t, and he knew that. Iwaizumi always had something to do. 

Iwaizumi nodded, offering him a piece. 

“Thank you.” 

Iwaizumi felt stupid for wanting to hear that ridiculous nickname again. “You’re welcome, Tooru.” 

For the first time since Iwaizumi had known Oikawa, milk bread didn’t help fix the situation. The awkwardness was still there. 

* 

A week had passed since that day, and suddenly, it was his birthday. Oikawa woke up alone, briefly recalling the other man mentioning he had a morning class. He wasn’t disappointed. He was _not._ They’d barely had time to hang out ever since his second semester started, anyways. Besides, he had practice. 

He remained standing in the kitchen for five minutes, staring at the birthday donut Iwaizumi placed on the island for him, a small balloon wrapped around it and a card reading _‘a year closer to death’_ scribbled on with chicken handwriting, four aliens drawn on each corner. He cursed and stuffed the donut in his mouth, sliding the note in his pocket. He stomped down the stairs, both endeared by Iwaizumi’s surprise and annoyed at how easily he could send Oikawa’s heart rate off the charts without even being present. 

Oikawa was wiping the cake Tomas smushed on his face when his screen lit up. He grabbed his phone, looking up at his team and shouting, “¡No te comas todo el pastel! ¡Es mi cumpleaños, cabrones!” _(Don't eat the whole cake! It's my birthday, you bastards!)_

He laughed at them and looked at his screen again, his smile fading. 

_> >What time do you get back home?_

He wanted to see Iwaizumi, but he also didn’t. He really _didn’t,_ actually. He turned his phone off, leaving his message unanswered and ran back to his teammates, wrapping his arms around two of them. “Entonces, ¿dónde vamos de fiesta esta noche ?” _(So, where are we going to party tonight?)_

As the daylight dwindled, the tension in Iwaizumi grew. Oikawa should have been back by now. Sure, there was something going on between them, and he had noticed how Oikawa was avoiding him like he was the plague, but he had never stayed out this late. Not without letting him know. 

He filled the kettle to make coffee he had no intention of drinking, his eyes darting to his phone every few seconds, waiting for a text, call, _anything._ He turned the television on and sat, only to turn it off just a minute later. When the kettle finally boiled and clicked off, Iwaizumi was standing an inch from the front door, staring at it as if he could will Oikawa to open it, visualizing his smile of relief and scold in his tone as he told Oikawa how worried he’d been. 

It was nearly an hour later that the doorbell finally sounded. Iwaizumi jumped off the couch, yanking the door open. 

Tomas was there, a completely wasted Oikawa hanging off of him. Iwaizumi's face fell. “Ah, hola. No dejaba de beber, así que lo llevé a casa antes de que se intoxicara con alcohol.” _(Ah, hello. He wouldn't stop drinking so I took him home before he gave himself alcohol poisoning.)_

Tomas appeared to be feeling guilty. _Good_. 

Iwaizumi quickly enveloped Oikawa with his arms. “Gracias. Tenga una buena noche.” _(Thank you. Have a great night.)_

He closed the door, leading the drunk man to their shared room, sitting him down on the bed.

“How can you be so _stupid_?” His touch was gentle as he slipped Oikawa’s shirt off him, completely contradicting the harshness of his tone. 

Oikawa looked away, not wanting to look into Iwaizumi’s eyes as he scolded him. 

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi sucked in a deep breath after helping him into a clean shirt. _“Why?”_

“It’s my birthday, I’d like to think I can do whatever I want today.” 

“Of course, you fucking can! Just tell me before disappearing for seven hours, that’s all I’m asking!” He inhaled slowly, lowering his voice, _“please,_ Tooru...” he touched forehead to the bare skin of Oikawa’s thigh. 

Oikawa looked at him, sitting on the floor next to where he was sat on the bed, face warm against his skin. “Okay. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Oikawa slid away from his touch, retreating to his side of the bed. “Goodnight now.” 

Iwaizumi slipped into the bed next, biting on his lip and pausing for a while before sliding into Oikawa’s space. Oikawa’s eyes opened wide when strong arms circled around him, palms warming his hips. 

“What are you doing?” His voice wobbled, heart beating in his ears. He thought he might need to be taken into the ER. 

“Spooning you,” he whispered, lips brushing against Oikawa’s skin. “What does it look like I’m doing?” 

_“Iwa_ _-chan...”_ A sudden kiss to his nape startled him, his body freezing. Warmth spread through his body and he felt as if it were only a matter of time before he exploded. 

Iwaizumi never thought he’d be so delighted to hear that God-awful nickname again. “ _Let me_.” 

Oikawa swallowed dryly, the lump in his throat making it hard to breath. Or was that because Iwaizumi’s body was flush against his? He really couldn’t tell. He just knew he felt _extremely_ sober now. “I want to see your face.” 

Iwaizumi moved back, smiling when Oikawa’s eyes finally met his. “Hey.” 

“Hi,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, but didn’t break eye contact. 

“Tooru, what’s wrong?” He furrowed his eyebrows, fingers stroking his clothed waist. “I don’t like how things are between us-” 

“Kiss me.” 

Iwaizumi froze. _What?_

“I want you to kiss me, Hajime,” he repeated, eyes shining gold under the moonlight peeking through the window. 

Heat rushed to Iwaizumi’s core when he heard his first name roll off Oikawa’s tongue, wishing it were illegal for anyone else to say it. He didn’t want to hear it from anyone, only Oikawa. They’d kissed, multiple times, but they’d never asked for it. It felt _intimate_ , in some way. 

He leaned his head closer, his mouth, bitten and red, only inches away from Oikawa’s. Iwaizumi let out a small, warm breath against it, sending a shiver down his spine. It seemed like ages before Iwaizumi built up the courage to finally do it. _Gentle,_ but sweet, he pressed his lips to Oikawa’s. The moment their lips touched, the world vanished instantly; the cars driving by their building, their neighbours fighting next door – they all slowly faded into nothingness, only _they_ remained, lips dancing against each other. the Oikawa’s eyes fluttered shut, and all he could feel was _Iwaizumi_. His warmth, his touch, his _being_. 

They moved together like two dancers sashaying through a melody. His lips were warm, _delicate,_ everything Oikawa wanted. He didn’t care what Iwaizumi felt anymore, this was enough. In that moment, he felt as though he was floating in space and everything around him had turned to dust. 

He pulled away, eyes drifting to Oikawa’s swollen lips as he wet them with his tongue. 

_“Again,”_ Oikawa whispered against Iwaizumi’s lips, already leaned in, but Iwaizumi held him back by his shoulders. “What is it?” His heart just couldn’t seem to calm down. 

He remained silent, eyes shining emerald under the moonlight illuminating the room, brows furrowed as he stared back at Oikawa. His hand twitched, almost reaching out to brush a stand of hair behind Oikawa’s ear, gaze switching between staring at the glint of gold in his eyes and admiring his lips – his very, _very_ pink lips. 

Oikawa cupped his cheek, successfully breaking his train of thought, if there was even such a thing at that moment. “Iwa-chan,” his forehead creased, his voice shaky. “Open up to me. _Please._ ..” The hurt in his voice was obvious. “There’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable, not with me. Do you not _trust_ me?” 

Something in Iwaizumi clicked as soon as heard his voice crack, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes. “I do. _God_ , I trust you more that I trust myself,” he touched their foreheads. “I’m so sorry for making you doubt that.” 

“Then stop keeping everything to yourself! Tell me everything, Iwa-chan. I want to know every single thing.” He leaned into his touch, closing his eyes. 

_“Okay,”_ he breathed out, ready to do anything for the man lying next to him. “Okay. I will,” he peppered his face with soft kisses. 

A small sigh left Oikawa’s mouth. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.” He smiled when Iwaizumi reached his lips, kissing them gently. 

Iwaizumi paused before exhaling deeply, “I never want to upset you like that again. I’ll learn to be more vulnerable with you.” He rubbed his cheek on Oikawa’s, closing his eyes and listening to his soft breathing. “Only you.” 

“Okay,” he whispered, fearing that he’d ruin the moment if he were to talk any louder. “ _Only me.”_

_*_

Iwaizumi was smart enough to know that best friends don’t break up with their girlfriend because every time they held her hand, they wished it were Oikawa’s. Best friends don’t sneak out in the middle of the night to go to the other’s house just because they asked for a cuddle. They don’t forget about going to their dream university just because they don’t want to be separated from the other. Best friends don’t kiss, not while sober, at least, not regularly either. They managed to blur the lines between friendship and what was beyond, and Iwaizumi wasn’t sure whether to be happy or scared about that. 

It was nearly three days later that Iwaizumi remembered he hadn’t given Oikawa his birthday gift. 

The door opened as he was putting the dishes away. He checked the clock, realizing that Oikawa wasn’t supposed to be back for at least another hour. “Tooru?” 

“Honey, I’m home!” 

Iwaizumi was halfway through rolling his eyes when Oikawa walked in, resting against a man he hadn’t seen before. “Oikawa?” He rushed to his side, quickly taking him into his arms, unintentionally glaring at the man next to him. “What happened?” 

“¿Es este el compañero de cuarto caliente del que nunca te callas?” The stranger asked, a smirk on his face. _(Is this the hot roommate you never shut up about?)_

“Iwaizumi puede hablar español, Diego.” Oikawa smiled sheepishly. _(Iwaizumi can speak Spanish, Diego.)_

“Lo siento.” _(I’m sorry.)_ The man, Diego, smiled apologetically at Oikawa then turned to face Iwaizumi. It didn’t feel sincere, though. _“_ El entrenador me dijo que lo llevara a casa. Se estaba esforzando demasiado y se lastimó la rodilla .” _(The coach told me to take him home. He must’ve been pushing himself too hard and ended up hurting his knee.)_

“Gracias, Diego. Encantado de conocerte,” Iwaizumi bowed politely, arm still around Oikawa. _(Thank you, Diego. It’s nice to meet you.)_

“Es un placer conocerte también. Tengo que volver a practicar. ¡Cuídate, Oikawa.” _(Nice to meet you, too. I have to head back to practice now. Take care of yourself, Oikawa.)_

Iwaizumi saw him to the door before walking back to the living room where Oikawa was laying on the couch. He sighed, sitting at the edge of the couch. “Does it still hurt?” 

Oikawa nodded. 

It happened all the time when they were in high school, having to cancel practice because Oikawa kept overworking himself. Iwaizumi always scolded him for that, reminding him that his body needed rest. 

He helped him out of his shorts and, slowly, his hands worked on the muscles around his joint, brows furrowing when Oikawa winced in pain. It took a few minutes for the pain to subdue and for Oikawa to relax, wiping a few tears that managed to slip out. He placed an ice packet on his knee and sat beside him. 

“Do you feel better?” 

He nodded again, staring at the black screen of the T.V. 

“I’m not going to yell at you. You can look at me.” 

Oikawa hesitated before turning to face him. “I’m sorry.” 

Iwaizumi sighed, leaning in and touching their foreheads. “What if I'm not here to help, Tooru? Please be careful.” 

Oikawa felt his insides knot. Iwaizumi didn’t plan on staying with him, he wasn’t going to be around him forever. 

Iwaizumi then shuffled downwards, moving the ice packet aside and brushed his fingertips over Oikawa’s knee, bare skin cold against his own. Oikawa stared down at him; expression unreadable. _“What?”_ Iwaizumi asked, moving his face closer and touching his lips to his knee, holding them there. 

“What are you doing?” Oikawa covered his cheeks with a hand, eyes focused on the contact point between Iwaizumi’s lips and his skin, a wave of heat rushing straight to his crotch. 

Iwaizumi didn’t answer him, simply kissing his knee again, fingers brushing against the skin right above it. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa snorted, his other hand trying to push Iwaizumi away but he wouldn’t budge. “Enough, _please_ ,” he let loose an inhuman laugh. “Stop that, it _tickles!”_

Iwaizumi hummed, his lips pulling away from Oikawa's skin to give him a breather. “Will you overwork yourself again?” But Iwaizumi didn't have much patience, his fingers beginning to poke at Oikawa's sides relentlessly, eliciting more cackles from his parted lips. 

_“Iwa-chaaan_ _,”_ he pleaded, arms aimlessly pushing at his shoulders, knee twitching in toward his body as he curled into himself, his laughter filling the room. 

Iwaizumi finally leant back, smile easy. 

Oikawa caught his breath before making grabby hands at Iwaizumi, pressing their lips together once he was close enough. They pulled away after a few seconds and looked at each other, their cheeks tinted red. Iwaizumi let out a giggle. “You look like a tomato, Shittykawa.” He smiled. “Are you hungry?” 

Oikawa was malfunctioning. _Iwaizumi giggled_ . Big, macho, daddy Iwaizumi fucking _giggled_ . “Uh, yeah.” He totally missed that nickname, focused on the fact that _Iwaizumi_ fucking _giggled._

“Alright. I’ll go make you something.” He ruffled his brown locks before leaving the room. 

Oikawa touched the top of his head delicately, a shy smile playing at his lips as he watched Iwaizumi’s backside before he disappeared into the kitchen. 

* * *

Iwaizumi walked back into the living room with the pizzas, setting them on the table and getting comfortable on the couch next to Oikawa. “Weren’t you supposed to pay this time?” 

“I pay you with kisses.” He kissed his cheek, going back in when he didn’t react, licking a fat stripe over it. 

An elbow to the gut disciplined him for a few minutes. 

“Did you decide on what we’re watching?” Iwaizumi wiped his cheek with his sleeve then swiftly threw his arm around Oikawa. 

“Recommend a horror movie.” He curled up, nuzzling into his side. 

“The Reflection.” 

“Is it on Netflix?” 

“It’s in the mirror.” 

_“Rude!”_

“Oh, Tooru, before I forget. Turn around,” he said as he slid his hand into his pocket. 

“Right now? At least let me shower first- _Ow!”_

Iwaizumi grabbed his ear, turning him around by force. He felt him reach around his neck, a chain dropping onto his chest. He waited for him to finish before turning back around to face him. Oikawa looked down and held the small pendant between his fingers. It was a silver turtle. 

“It’s Voldetort,” Iwaizumi smiled. “Happy Birthday, Tooru.” 

He caressed the turtle between his fingers, the simplicity of it, was _perfect._ Maybe Iwaizumi didn’t know exactly how much he loved that stuffed turtle, but he still got him a portable version of it, giving him a source of comfort he could carry anywhere – something to remind him of Iwaizumi even if he weren't around anymore. He held the pendant to his chest, “this is the best gift anyone’s given to me. Thank you, Iwa-chan.” And with glassy eyes, he embraced him. 

They wound up watching _Tangled,_ again. 

“You know, Flynn Rider can get it. If only he’d ask,” Oikawa said, ripping the pizza crust off his slice and placing it in Iwaizumi’s plate. 

“I know right.” He stuffed the crust in his mouth. 

“I guess you’ll have to make do with me for now,” he cracked his knuckles, ready to tackle Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi pushed him away as soon as he tried to get closer. “And you have to make do with your hand.” 

“Is it because I’m _gay?”_ Oikawa slammed his fist on the coffee table, feigning anger, but Iwaizumi could see the hidden smile tugging at his lips. “Is that why you hate me?” 

“I’ve been eating the crust for you since we were kids. Why the fuck would I do that if I _hated_ you?” Iwaizumi argued, one corner of his lips curling upwards into a smirk. 

Oikawa was about _‘make me’_ Iwaizumi so hard when his brain finally realized that he’d just indirectly stated that he _liked_ him. He stared at Flynn Rider as he complained about his nose on the _Wanted_ poster, completely out of it because, well, _Iwaizumi just admitted he liked him_. As a friend, he added, just to calm his racing heart. He could interpret it differently late at night when Iwaizumi’s too busy dreaming about riding Godzilla into the sunset with Ryan Gosling hanging onto him. Or maybe he’d be too busy wondering how Iwaizumi could sleep with an arm or leg dangling off the bed, unconcerned. Oikawa wasn’t sure whether to admire him for that or fear him. 

“Tooru?” 

He finally snapped back to reality. “Uh, yeah?” 

“What’re you thinking about?” 

He felt Iwaizumi bringing him even closer, moving his head to the side to look him in the eyes. Oikawa tried his best to stay focused and not drown in those green eyes. 

“I-I just remembered how my mum used to yell at me for not eating the crust. My dad, too.” 

Iwaizumi totally bought that, too distracted by Oikawa’s overwhelming scent surrounding him to question anything. “Well, then, I’ll be your mum and dad from now on. I’ll be your.... _dom.”_ The shit-eating grin on Oikawa’s face alone told Iwaizumi that he’d forever regret saying that sentence. “No, _wait._ I take that back. I totally am _not_ that.” 

“... daddy?” 

Unfortunately for Iwaizumi, an elbow to his crotch only made Oikawa cry for five minutes. 

“This area is off-limits, Iwa-chan!” He said as he wiped his tears. 

“Why? You don’t even use it, you fucking virgin.” 

“Do you want me to?” Oikawa smirked, hand trailing up Iwaizumi’s thigh. 

So, third time’s a charm after all. 

* * *

Iwaizumi loved winter. He loved the hot chocolate with marshmallows melting into the whipped cream, snuggling up with candles burning, blankets draped over him, and most of all: a brilliant book. He loved the anticipation of snow, and the happiness it brought. He loved the rain, whether it was heavy or light. He loved the big jumpers and hot homemade soup that burned his tongue. And most of all, he loved that he was spending this winter alone with Oikawa, no parents to yell at them for sneaking out to hang out during a storm, no Takeru to hold on to Oikawa’s leg and beg him to build a snowman with him. It was just them. 

He lied. He only loved the rain when he had an umbrella, which he didn’t. He wondered why the universe hated him while he ran down the block, gym bag over his head to shield him from the heavy rain. 

“I don’t know if I even need a shower anymore,” Iwaizumi huffed, closing the front door after him. 

Oikawa was too busy staring out the window, having not seen rain ever since they’d moved. He loved winter, too; pretending to be cold so Iwaizumi would bring him closer to his body, occasionally squeezing his side, blowing hot air over his palms and holding them in his until they warm up. He'd wait for winter to come every year just to catch a glimpse of that version of Iwaizumi – all flushed cheeks and red nose, specs of snow sprinkled over his brown locks, the emerald in his eyes glinting under the morning sky, it was all so captivating, so _bewitching._ Winter was Iwaizumi’s season, Oikawa thought, the butterflies that he gave him during those months much more intense, _violent,_ ripping through his insides like man-eating _beasts._

He'd often whine about forgetting his scarf at home on an exceptionally cold day, hoping Iwaizumi would offer him his – which he always did – and he would keep it until Iwaizumi noticed and threatened to leak his embarrassing pictures, or until the overwhelming scent of Iwaizumi faded, and he’d have to return it because it no longer served any purpose. 

“Tooru, can you hand me a towel so I don’t get the floor wet?” 

Oikawa didn’t budge from where he was stood at the window. “Let’s go downstairs.” 

“What? It’s pouring. Are you _crazy?”_ He pointed at his drenched self. 

“Maybe I am.” He finally turned to face him, eyes glimmering, hands fisted in determination. “Come on, Iwa-chan! It'll be fun.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

He walked down the stairs, complaining more with every step he took. “Why'd you have to drag me downstairs in this weather? We didn’t even bring our umbrellas, asshole,” Iwaizumi grumbled, standing at the entrance of their building. “Are you barefoot?” 

“That’s the whole point!” Oikawa totally ignored that last question. 

Iwaizumi didn’t even have time to react before he was being dragged out and under the pouring rain. “Tooru! What the fuck?” He put his hands over his head, but put them down because they did absolutely nothing to stop him from getting wet. 

“Isn’t it beautiful, Iwa-chan?” 

Iwaizumi sighed in defeat and nodded, looking up as the rain hammered over his face. And then, Oikawa turned to look at him, wet hair swept back, droplets dripping off his eyelashes, teeth shining white under the street light. Oikawa was obnoxious, extremely blunt, stubborn, even childish at times. But in him, Iwaizumi found _beauty._ Inside and out, he was gorgeous. He placed his palm over Oikawa’s cheek, smiling when he leant into the touch, seeking warmth now that he was completely soaked. The moon peeked through the clouds, shining its light over Oikawa’s face, highlighting his high cheekbones, the droplets hanging off his eyelashes reflecting the moonlight. 

“Can I kiss you?” Iwaizumi whispered. 

Oikawa opened his eyes slowly, his insides suddenly on fire. _“Yes.”_

Iwaizumi’s eyes travelled down his face, from his eyes, to his nose, to his mouth. He kissed him and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, _comforting_ in ways words could never be. His hand rested below Oikawa’s ear, thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingled. Oikawa ran his fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and he could feel the beating of his heart against his chest. 

Oikawa grinned against his mouth, satisfied. “Let’s dance, Iwa-chan.” 

“Dance? Here? But you’re barefoot.” He raised his eyebrow at him. “Also, we have no music.” 

“I’ll sing-” 

_“No.”_

He wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck anyways, swaying around while humming. Iwaizumi didn’t complain this time, snaking his arms around Oikawa’s waist. 

“What’s that song?” 

Oikawa looked offended. “I can’t believe you! We had our first kiss to this song!” 

Flashbacks from that day rushed through his mind: feeling Oikawa’s soft lips for the first time, soft sand tickling the soles of his feet as the waves crashed into the shore, and _The Beatles_ playing softly in the background. 

Iwaizumi smiled, causing the butterflies in Oikawa’s stomach to go berserk yet again. 

“ _But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares with you,”_ he sang softly. 

Oikawa looked up at him, eyes glimmering under the street light, face aglow as the rain drops rolled down his soft skin. He smiled, a soft pink tinting his cheeks. 

_“I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life, I'll love you more,”_ he continued. 

It’s just a song, they told themselves. 

_God,_ they wished it wasn’t just a song. 

They moved slowly as they held each other, humming the rest of the song. Iwaizumi pulled away for a few seconds before leaning back in, kissing the droplets off Oikawa’s mouth, and he felt his lips smile against his own. Iwaizumi swept Oikawa’s fringe aside and kissed his forehead, before allowing him to sink into his arms, burying his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder curve, hands flexing around his back. 

“This is the happiest I've ever been, Hajime.” 

Warmth spread through his body despite the rain soaking through his clothes, and he held on to him just a little tighter. 

“Me too, Tooru.” 

The second their bedroom door closed, they were on each other, lips dancing together as they rid themselves of their soaked clothes, leaving a trail of wet footprints as they inched closer to their bed. 

Iwaizumi swallowed, insides burning with the flame Oikawa lit. He stared at the man in front of him, all glassy eyes and pink lips, brown locks everywhere and dripping with liquid sunshine. It was so _unfair,_ being so extraordinarily _stunning._ “I don’t think I can hold back anymore,” he murmured, holding Oikawa’s face in his hands, breathing heavily against his cheek. 

And he was kissing him. Once, twice, until Oikawa’s had a taste and realized he’d never have enough. Oikawa was _everywhere_ , hands up his back, over his arms, and suddenly he was kissing him harder, _deeper._ With a fervent urgent need he had never known before. It was in no way a perfect kiss – there was too much tongue, teeth clashing against each other, but they didn’t _care_. This moment was _theirs._

He groaned softly, low in his throat, arms circling Oikawa, gathering him against his body, bringing him impossibly closer. They dropped onto the bed, their shirts soaking the sheets. They breathed heavily for a while, lying on their shoulders; gaze fixed on each other. 

Oikawa eyes darkened, as if he awoke from a trance, eyebrows suddenly knitted. 

“Tooru?” Iwaizumi’s heart fell into his stomach, now afraid he’d pushed it too far, that he’d be the reason they’d fall apart. 

“Was this just a kiss to you?” He grudgingly asked, eyes pried away from Iwaizumi’s. “Was this also just a stupid mistake?” 

Without hesitation, _“no.”_

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed, his bottom lip quivering. “Why are you doing this?” He asked, the tears in his eyes reflecting the full moon peeking through the window. “You’re hurting me, Hajime.” His palms fisted his drenched shirt as he curled up into himself, fringe falling into his eyes. The pain he felt at that moment – so overwhelming he thought his heart might give out, and all he wanted to do was go back in time and beg his five-year-old self not to take interest in the little boy who just moved in next door, the one who kept running around the yard with a stick and his Godzilla toy, narrating the whole movie for hours on end. _Please,_ he begged his feelings, _just go away._

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi’s voice cut through all his thoughts, and the warmth of his palms as he cupped the other man’s cheeks – now forced to look at him – sent a wave of warmth straight to his heart, Iwaizumi’s thumb stroking along his cheekbones. _“Tooru,_ I love you.” 

Oikawa’s heart free fell out his chest, voice weak as he tried to form a response, “what are you talking about?” _No,_ he told himself. “I love you too, so what? That’s nothing new.” He leaned into his touch, eyes closing slowly, the tears in his eyes still unshed, hanging on for dear life. _No,_ he repeated. His heart wrenched in agony, his fist tightening around his shirt. “ _Please stop this.”_

“Why don’t you get it? Are you really that thick-skulled?” Iwaizumi’s lips curved, gaze softening as he looked at the man lying beside him, cheeks flushed – tinted bright red. “I’m tired of keeping shit from you, Tooru,” he breathed in. “I’m so fucking in love with you. Like, _so fucking_. Extremely in love with you. For many years. Super in love with you, like, _very-”_ Oikawa placed his fingers over Iwaizumi's lips, silencing him, and Iwaizumi laughed, kissing the pads of his fingers before holding them in his hand, surrounding them with his warmth. 

He inhaled deeply, not because he was nervous or afraid. _No._ At that moment, he was not nervous, nor was he panicked. He hadn’t planned this, yet he couldn’t resist when Oikawa was there, in front of him, being _Oikawa._ What he felt was relief. He was _relieved._ Whatever Oikawa’s response was, he was going to accept it, because at least now, he wasn’t going about his days with a heavy load on his shoulders. His secret was out, and what was bound to happen would happen, and he’d be left to accept that. 

“I want you to know that, Oikawa. I have, for _so_ long. I wanted the whole world to know that Oikawa Tooru was my partner in Volleyball, and now, I want the whole world to know that I'm madly in love with him.” 

A few seconds of silence went by, and Iwaizumi began to feel jittery because _holy shit he just confessed his undying love for his lifelong best friend._

_“Yeah?”_ His voice broke through the silence though it being barely a whisper, shaking as he spoke. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi breathed back. 

Oikawa slowly sat up, followed by Iwaizumi. He pinched his arm, the tears welling up in his eyes again, ecstasy flooding through his body, flowing through his blood. “This is _real?_ It's not a dream?” He whispered disbelievingly, almost as if he were talking to himself. His palms held Iwaizumi’s face, tears wetting his cheeks. “Is it actually?” 

Iwaizumi's eyes mirrored Oikawa’s, now stinging with tears of their own, but his smile only grew. _“Yes,_ Tooru. It is, I think,” he pinched himself, too, and laughed. He nuzzled closer to Oikawa’s face, lips barely an inch apart. “I’ll shout it out the window if that would make it seem more real,” he whispered. “Loud enough for the whole of San Juan to know.” 

Oikawa leaned in, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss, moving together slowly. They pulled away, staring into each other’s eyes in silence. Everything around them felt quiet as Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa, yet the world around them continued to exist. That moment was theirs. 

“I’m in love with Iwaizumi Hajime,” he whispered, the intimacy of it sending waves of blazing heat through Iwaizumi’s body. Maybe he was dying, he thought. “There,” he added after a while, noticing that Iwaizumi was frozen in place. “Now _my_ whole world knows how I feel.” 

The first tear ran down his cheek, followed by the next, then another, until he was shaking and sobbing into Oikawa’s chest, heart racing far too quickly for it not to be deadly. _“Fuck,_ Tooru,” he sniffled, trying to steady his voice, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “I think I’m dying, honestly,” he looked up at him, noticing the tears flowing out his eyes, too. 

“I haven’t seen Iwa-chan cry this much since you broke your leg when we were nine,” his voice was soft, lips gentle against the corners of his eyes, kissing against his eyelids next, then his cheekbones, until finally reaching his mouth, lips brushing against his cupid’s bow before closing the gap between them. “You’re becoming like me. I guess I’m contagious.” 

“Yeah, you are, you fucking disease,” he laughed, turning his attention to the pair of lips attacking his jaw, and the thighs suddenly thrown over his own. “You cried a lot that day, too.” 

With a swift motion, he threw his and Oikawa’s shirts off and gripped his sides gently. “How could I not when Iwa-chan was in so much pain?” 

Iwaizumi’s lips dragged over the porcelain skin of Oikawa’s chest, teasing over his nipples. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” He looked up him, eyes wide, glazed over with pure _lust._ “If you’re ever uncomfortable, just tell me, anytime. Not just now,” he rested his forehead against Oikawa’s collarbone. 

His arms wrapped around Iwaizumi’s shoulders, planting a kiss to the crown of his head. “I’ve waited for this my whole life, Hajime. I want to experience everything new with you. Only you.” 

“Fuck. Me too, Tooru,” his eyes fixed at the man in front of him, gaze filled with nothing but love. So much love, he harboured, just for one man. “ _Only you.”_

Iwaizumi awoke to soft sheets, and the morning light trickled in through the blinds. Shedding himself of the remaining glimpses of his dream, his eyes were still shut as he soaked in the warmth of his covers before letting his eyes see the sun’s rays. 

Memories from the previous night flashed in his mind, his lips curling into a smile. 

The urgent need to rip the clothes off the other's body, unable to sustain another moment without their bodies flush against each other. The fervent grinding, the _ache_ they felt during the split second where they weren’t touching. Oikawa’s voice, struggling to form meaningful words, opting to call out his name, sending Iwaizumi off the edge as he _ravished_ him entirely. Oikawa trying to take control by throwing _Hajime_ into every sentence he spoke, and how could Iwaizumi not comply when his name sounded so _erotic_ coming out his mouth. 

Oikawa’s voice, small, as he asked Iwaizumi to be gentle, and then the glimmer in his eyes when Iwaizumi admitted to it being his first time, too. _We’re each other’s firsts,_ he’d said, and Iwaizumi kissed him harder. 

And, of course, the _is it in yet?_ and Iwaizumi would’ve knocked him out if he weren’t too busy trying not to hurt Oikawa, the pain he felt as soon as Iwaizumi pushed himself in evident on his face. Iwaizumi's mind was racing, crowded with a million thoughts as he tried to figure out how to do this shit because _god damn it, this is nothing like porn._ Oikawa's giraffe limbs were _everywhere._

Then, _begging_ – the moment Oikawa put _Hajime_ and _please_ in one sentence – instantly became a new kink of his, Oikawa’s body twitching in pleasure, almost at the edge of overstimulation as he pushed himself deeper inside of him, groaning into his neck as they both rode out their highs. 

He looked to his side, catching sight of a relaxed Oikawa laying on the other side of the bed, hair sticking out in all directions. He looked beautiful. _Beautiful_ : the first word that came to mind whenever he was thinking about Oikawa. Beautiful, with his eyelashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. Beautiful, with his lips chapped and _pink._ Beautiful, being _Oikawa_. 

Oikawa. _His_ Oikawa. 

This was not a dream, nor was he dying. This was his reality now. He never wanted this to end.

"Forever," he whispered to himself. He spent the morning preparing the vows he was so adamant on saying to the man lying next to him, fingers brushing over his long spine, an easy smile on his face.

 _Forever_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I know the ending seems cut off and that's because it actually is. I had so much more things planned for this fanfic, but unfortunately I've lost motivation. That's why I went back and tried to end it in this chapter. This fic was originally supposed to be around 40k words hahaha.  
> I might go back and write an epilogue including MatsuHana's wedding, but I'm not sure when or if that's going to happen.
> 
> If you enjoyed the dynamics and my writing style, check out my tumblr! It's @grellreaperr.  
> I write a lot of oneshots there and I take requests, too!  
> I will be writing more fanfics in the future, probably of different ships and fandoms too.
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who left kudos! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> NOTE: I'VE DECIDED TO CONTINUE WORKING ON THIS FIC.  
> I'm not sure when I'll update it, but I really feel weird leaving it unfinished like this. I'll try my best to get the new chapter done soon. :)


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